


Not Her Caesar

by Anonymous



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Angst, Don't be fooled by the description, F/M, Fluff, It's body acceptance with a small side of horny, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oops, now, some fat shaming in early chapters, there's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Cleopatra struggled to reconcile the spirit claiming to be her beloved with the man she once knew, and hopes that if she could slim him down that she may be able to solve the problem once and for all.AKA: Five times Cleopatra tried to get Caesar to slim down, and once she didn't.
Relationships: Gaius Julius Caesar | Saber/Cleopatra | Assassin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 16
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Failure one: Appealing to reason vs A dangerous mouth

She should be happy, she knows.

After all, hadn’t this been her wish from the grail in the first place? The chance to reunite with her Caesar?

A clear case of a wish gone wrong, of some universal irony at work.

She should have known his soul would have undergone the same process of her own, that their spirits would be destined to entwine once more, truly for eternity this time.

There was only one problem. 

This was not her Caesar.

This man was younger than she’d ever known him, and he had… grown.

Grown _much, much_ larger.

She often found herself tracing the strange curves of him with her eyes since arriving here, always from afar, not yet ready to truly confront him once more. The rotund shape of him seemed so foreign to her, larger than anyone she had seen in her first life, though she had been told that in this time there were people twice his size, and larger even than that, which she could not even envision.

The knowledge did nothing to soften the blow of seeing him like this. 

More importantly, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t how she remembered him to be, and she cannot help but suspect some cruel trick being played on her behalf.

He looks like someone had left the marble block that should have become his statue halfway through the process, leaving lumpy messes tacked on to the remnants of his form visible in the visage of this stranger.

Yet somehow he does not care one bit about this, the most incriminating clue that this was not the man she’d known. Had he encountered a problem like this before, he would have rectified it, conquered it like every other obstacle in his life.

According to all of her strange new companions, this man had not tried anything.

She’s not surprised that he refuses to be ashamed of his new form however. Shame has always been a foreign concept to him; an emotion to be felt by other men, _lesser_ men he would say. That has not changed apparently, though even she herself thought it perhaps should have, given his change in circumstances.

It may be cruel, but she wished that it had. Maybe then she would be able to reason with him over this.

As they now stand, all of her attempts are doomed to failure. They may be equal partners in mind and wit, but no one can out manoeuvre his silver tongue in a battle of rhetoric, even when they are indisputably in the right.

It doesn’t stop her needing to try, perhaps hoping that this Caesar truly wasn’t the man she knew, that she would be able to defeat him and find the truth behind this tragedy.

She waited around of one of the dining areas she’d heard he frequented, knowing he would be far from difficult to spot. True to form, she quickly caught sight of the broad expanse of his back torturing the material of his coat.

She didn’t like him in such vivid scarlet, especially not so much of it, unable to stop herself thinking about when she had been told of his murder. The tales varied; that he was stabbed twenty times, thirty times, fifty, one hundred. But in every version it always ended with him draped in scarlet cloth of his own making.

There was nothing but futility down that road however, because if the other’s were to be believed then he was stood before her, perhaps not alive, but well. By some measure at least.

“Caesar.” She called out to him, steeling her nerve for the confrontation.

He turned at the sound of her voice, and immediately she knew she hadn’t been ready. The changes in him were far more obvious from this angle, the roundness of his jaw, of his chest, and of his stomach.

It was sort of reminiscent of one of those fertility idols, though clearly that look was better suited for women rather than men. She’d heard some of the other heroic spirts had manifested as women, would that have been all that hard for Caesar?

“Cleopatra, my love. I hope you are finding yourself recovered from the other night?” He asked making his way towards her, as if her fainting spell had not been entirely his fault in the first place.

His words had been cautious, but she wouldn’t go as far as to call them hesitant. As he got closer, he became ever larger, and she had to ensure that she did not faint once more now that he was within her space, as close as his stomach would allow without it touching her.

“Ah yes my love, I was just struck by… how much you have changed since our last meeting.” She replied, hoping to begin this diplomatically.

It was to no avail, and once more this man demonstrated that he could not be her Caesar.

“If it bothers you, then you are free to roam elsewhere.” He suggested, completely unaffected.

Was he _breaking up_ with her? After all this?

Her Caesar would never do such a thing.

“We both know that we have never bound one another exclusively when it comes to the pleasures of the flesh.” He elaborated at her reaction. “Those carnal appetites have never been the single basis of our love, there is no threat in indulging them elsewhere if I alone cannot satiate them.”

Was _appetite_ really the best word he could use there? It seemed to her that he’d been indulging plenty of them.

“Oh? Have you been indulging many carnal pleasures lately?” She asked.

Where would he even find someone who would want to at his current size? Were they capable of indulging such things with living humans, or were they limited to their fellow spirts?

He just smirked, and her heart fluttered at the familiarity of the expression, even set into softer cheeks. 

“I did not know you were out there, otherwise I would have of course turned to you first.” He said. “Surely you can’t blame for seeking comfort where I could in the meantime? Forced to exist with only the memory of your mesmerising beauty.”

“I have also been haunted by the memory of your beauty.” She said in response.

Though she was certain he couldn’t miss how her eyes spanned down to the protrusion of his stomach, his own gaze soon following suit.

She was still exiting with only the _memory_ of his looks.

“This bothers you.” He said, placing a hand over its width.

“Does it not bother you?”

At her question he pulled an expression she couldn’t recall ever seeing from in life, something she would call a pout on anyone else.

“It was something of an adjustment, I cannot say otherwise. I was summoned like this from the moment I arrived here, I imagine as some cosmic punishment of the idiocy of me being a saber when I should clearly be a rider.” He explained.

Cleopatra herself had wondered about that, struggling to recall any particular heroism with swords from her beloved.

“And now you are fine with it?” She asked.

This time it wasn’t even in search of an argument, she just desperately wished to understand how he had done so, if he were indeed who everyone said he was.

There was a sparkle in his eyes, a gleam that had always spelled trouble for those it was directed at, the promise that he was about to convince you over to his way of seeing things, even if it was in the furthest thing from your best interests.

“We are not quite people anymore Cleo.” He began. “Our bodies are unchanging, unageing, so there are no more surprises for us there.”

Had he even tried to change his body though? Not getting older was one thing, but why did spirits need to eat if their weight could not change.

She did not get the chance to question it.

“All of our choices, our impact on the world is now under the control of the people we serve, and our immortal legacies are already written, while we just exist in this state, simply products of them.”

“So you believe there is no point in trying?” She asked, struggling to understand how he could be so defeatist.

“The opposite actually. I see no issue with serving our current master, we are truly working for the collective good of humanity, rather than single empires, and how often can someone say that? Besides, I’m quite pleased with my legacy, placed among the greatest emperors who ever lived, while my traitors cotemporaries are remembered as short-sighted fools.”

But he wasn’t that man from the legacy anymore was he? She’d certainly never seen a bust of him that looked like this.

He could tell he hadn’t satisfied her with his explanation this far, and continued.

“I want this existence to have meaning, my love, and after much consideration I came to the realisation that the only things we can truly control in this state are our inner thoughts, our feelings. If I am able to change my past opinions to celebrate who I am now, and am able to spend my days in a state of joy, rather than shame, then I would argue I have reclaimed the very essence of life itself.”

Was he living? She certainly couldn’t deny that he was enjoying himself, engaging in hedonism to a very different extent to what he had done in life.

He took her hand gently, as so to not alarm her probably, no doubt perfectly aware how perturbed she still was by him.

Cultural knowledge had been placed into their minds automatically, she remembered being taught, which must have been how she understood the relevance of the gentle kiss he placed on the back of her hand. The kiss of a gentlemen to a lady, in a time much later than theirs.

It left the spot he had done so warm, a small tingling spreading through her skin. Less like the pins and needles or electric shock that people in this time might think about… it was more like the fluttering of thousands of butterflies that had suddenly made a home under her skin.

“I hope that you may come around, and join me in reclaiming life. But do not force yourself, I know that our love is real, a marriage of true minds.” He said once he’d drawn away from the kiss, which realistically must have lasted an instant despite feeling as long as the time they’d been apart.

With those words he left her alone to her thoughts.

His lips seemed softer than they had in life, spared the small, unavoidable damages that living brought, and despite herself she wondered how they might feel elsewhere on her body, compared to in life.

They were almost as deadly as his charismatic words, she knew; a man with a very useful mouth indeed. 

It was safe to say she had lost this round, but when defeat felt like this she couldn’t bring herself to mind too much.


	2. Failure 2: Boot camp vs Spirit Physiology

Apparently her attempts at reasoning with him had not entirely ended in failure, the object of her (muddled) affections dramatically professing that he would attempt any weight loss methods she wished of him, in spite of his own feelings on the matter.

All it had taken was asking directly, leaving no wiggle room for him to manoeuvre his way out of it.

Though to be entirely honest, she was not hopeful that their set-up to achieve this was going to work, looking at it now. Because Caesar had been partaking in her boot camp for two weeks, and had made no progress. None whatsoever.

It defied all logic, he would work at training for hours, and his movements were fierce and quick; guided by almost inhuman grace.

Which she supposed that was the root of the problem really.

His physical capabilities _were_ inhuman in the truest sense, along with the rest of her companions.

After seeing even the most petite of women among their ranks prevail over behemoths she knew she shouldn’t have been surprised by this. Following that logic, Caesar’s agility in spite of his size was just a consequence of his new nature as a sabre, the very nature he blamed for his weight in the first place.

She supposed their physical forms were only as they were for aesthetic purposes, making it all the more cruel that her Caesar was the only one she had seen who had undergone this sort of bizarre transformation.

Others would watch her with pity in their eyes; whether in the belief that she was deluded that this could work, or just an extension of the pity she had noticed they directed at her beloved by default, she could not say.

It only inspired her to push harder however, for she knew that the real Caesar, the Caesar she had known, would not abide being looked down on the way their companions did so to him now. He would cauterise out any impression of weakness, leaving them trembling at his strength. The strength that had conquered all it had seen in her lifetime.

Then why did this Caesar treat it as a joke? Why did he brush off all the slights directed at him?

Why wasn’t he taking the boot camp as seriously as he should?

Today he had been using that sword of his, Crocea Mors, apparently not so afraid to lose it to a training dummy as he was a real opponent. It was a glorious thing, ornate and powerful… like Caesar _should_ have been.

But instead of using it to earn the respect he rightfully deserved from his peers, he would instead gleefully tell them how quickly he had lost it back in Britain, and how his true ‘legendary sword’ was the one he had used on Morgan le Fay.

If the rumours of their child were to be believed, then it wasn’t much of a mystery what sword he was referring to.

That one Cleopatra was _very_ familiar with. 

Though she struggled to imagine to imagine laying with him now, suddenly worried about crushing risks if nothing else.

It was a shame, because on days like today she would catch her thoughts straying, against her own permission.

He had removed his red coat, and though his outfit somehow made much less sense without it, she could clearly see the shifting of the muscles in his arms and shoulders as he swung his blade. They were certainly impressive to look at, larger than the majority of their companions honestly (although she knew that suggested nothing about their strength anymore).

In her weaker moments she would imagine those big arms scooping her up with ease, stronger than her beloved had ever been in life, twirling her around until she was dizzy with the thrill of it.

Of course, those fantasies would end abruptly once she remembered that she would probably end up thrown against his stomach if he were to pick her up like that in reality, and she was too unsure how that would feel to be able to picture it.

Did she even want to imagine such things? The answers did not come easily to her.

She had not refamiliarized herself with his body since returning, or anyone’s body for that matter, still wracked with confusion over her feelings.

Caesar had not been experiencing such problems.

Many of the Chaldea employees had stories of how he had wooed them, humans apparently less inclined to see him the way fellow heroic spirits did (though she had heard rumours of nights spent with others of their own kind too).

Her curiosity was almost enough for her to ask exactly _how_ that had happened, both regarding his fat, which she imagined made such things far more difficult, and the fact that as far as she was aware, their bodies were… different to humans, stronger and harder and all too capable of harming them.

But she was a pharaoh, and could not bear others to know that she was in the dark about such childish things.

None of his previous conquests seemed hurt, they all seemed highly satisfied with the experience in fact, which answered plenty of her questions as far as she wanted to hear the sordid details. 

Somehow she still couldn’t bring herself to do it.

It felt almost like infidelity, like a betrayal to her true Caesar.

These thoughts were interrupted by the booming sound of her own name, called to her with her beloved’s voice.

He had noticed her watching, running towards her with a beaming smile.

She felt hot in the face.

Really she should have been berating him, because if he had the energy to run still then he clearly hadn’t been training hard enough.

But all she was capable of thinking was that she was certain she had never seen that smile in life, dazzling in its intensity.

“I see you were taking the time to admire my form.” He said proudly.

She almost argued to the opposite, before realising that if she did so he would claim that he had been referring to his form with a sword, rather than his body itself, inevitably leading into the implications that she was incapable of keeping his body off of her mind.

(Which was true, even if not in the sense he would say so.)

Biting her tongue was useless however, he was already smirking at her, as if he could see the very cogs in her head turning.

“Why don’t you finish up for the day? You seem to have been working hard, you deserve a break.” She suggested.

Her words seemed to have confused him, and he took a few moments to size her up before answering.

“Ah, sweeter words I do not believe I have ever heard.” He finally said. “Though if you say you wish to accompany me, then that might just change.”

Honeyed words like those were dangerous, she knew. But they were also difficult to resist at the best of times, all the more so when she had been given into her weaker impulses of day dreaming.

“Accompany you where?” She asked, eager to check that he was not intending them to go to bed together.

She had made it abundantly clear that she was not yet ready. 

“I must go replenish my spiritual energy after such exertion! Otherwise I’m surely at risk of disappearing, which would leave our allies in an awful state.”

It seemed harmless enough, and so she agreed, knowing that she had to get herself used to his company (and body) once more, for both the sake of their team and their relationship.

Of course, she quickly realised that she had made a grave error of judgement.

Because his idea of ‘replenishing spiritual energy’ consisted mainly of eating truly obscene amounts of food. It was almost difficult to watch, though the people around them clearly did not consider it anything out of the ordinary.

Which made it worse, because it suggested to Cleopatra that he always ate like this, something that she truly couldn’t fathom. Watching it even once was stomach-churning, definitely the least appealing form of hedonism. 

It was also a far more likely culprit for his failure to lose weight. How could he possibly when he was eating like this? She imagined he could run from Marathon to Athens every day and not lose single kilogram so long as he gorged himself after.

The sudden knowledge that she had misunderstood the modern marathon entered her mind, though she found the experience no longer alarmed her as it might once have.

Unlike Caesar’s eating habits, which she found very alarming indeed.

The man had a salad sharing his name! Surely he could eat more healthily than he was.

Especially when she understood that Japanese cuisine was supposed to be one of the healthier types, not that this Caesar seemed to limit himself to a single country’s style of food in a meal.

Another thing that would need to stop.

It might even solve their problem of his weight, she mused, meaning it had to be worth a try.

Though she felt callous for doing this, she knew that this was a form of ‘tough love’ and that if this man was truly her Caesar, he would be grateful for it in the end.

“Caesar, my love.” She declared sternly. “I believe you need to go on a diet.”


	3. Failure 3:Dieting vs The joys of chocolate

Caesar was trying in this latest attempt, he truly was.

Whether he was _succeeding_ was a different issue altogether.

There were two barriers, broadly looking at it.

The first was that he was not losing weight; and Cleopatra was beginning to suspect, or perhaps just accept, that it truly was a result of their natures and not something that could be combatted with lifestyle changes. Sort of to be expected when one was not truly ‘living’ in the traditional sense.

But she believed him that he was not cheating on his diet, if only because he kept goading her into spending extended periods of time in his company so she could keep an eye on him.

She was not an idiot, and they both knew his attempts to spend time together were transparent… Cleopatra tried not to dwell too long on the fact that her beloved felt he had to resort to bribery to achieve it, though that had always been his way for most things in his life.

It was helping her get used to him once more though, so she did not find herself in a position to need to complain about the ruse. 

He was behaving much better at meals too, matching the standard portions of their companions, and not suddenly fading away from lost spiritual energy as he had threatened he might.

Despite the fact he had ceased creating a spectacle of himself with food, there was still the second problem that Cleopatra had encountered.

Namely, that his change in lifestyle was making him miserable, to a far greater extent than she had anticipated. Something that was only exacerbated by the sudden increase in the time they were spending together.

She could not abide being the cause of such deep sadness in her love, regardless of what she thought of his eating habits, and so she admitted failure once more.

Though how quickly he returned to his prior habits was slightly disappointing, she had to admit. 

“You were never like this with food in the time we knew one another.” She said over one of his meals, finally unable to keep quiet on the issue any longer.

“Food did not taste like this back then.” He simply rebutted. “Why else would we have all relied so heavily on alcohol?”

“This is better than drinking then?”

“I have come to appreciate remaining in full control of my faculties… among other advantages.”

It was strange to imagine Caesar, for once the version of him they were both talking about, ever losing control of himself. He was always so composed, so dignified, that it was hard to imagine him as a man with any vice when it came to consumption.

“Besides, have you even tried it?” He asked.

“I eat the food provided for replenishing our energy.”

Caesar just shook his head disapprovingly, watching her almost in pity. It was strange to imagine that while the rest of their companions looked down on him, he was looking down on them in turn.

“I assure you, they are picking the blandest things possible because they believe we don’t know any better.”

She didn’t think them to be above such things, but it honestly wasn’t making any difference to her life.

“I struggle to imagine how that is any better.” She said, gesturing to the lumpy brown shape he insisted was chicken.

Clearly intent on playing the fool, he gasped at her statement. Putting on a theatrical façade of having taken grievous offense at her words.

“The deep fat fryer has changed the course of human history Cleo, I imagine one day its own spirit may well be among our numbers.”

That was certainly… A colourful image. 

“Fine! If you are so passionate about this, then I will try it.” She surrendered.

(She refused to acknowledge if there had been sincere curiosity over whether it was truly worth the dramatics he was enacting over it.)

“Wait!” He said, pulling the portion from her reach. “I believe _this_ is not the ideal starting point for you, though I am pleased you are opening yourself to new possibilities. I have something else in mind, something I imagine will better suit the palate of a woman as cultured and refined as yourself.”

Honestly, at first she was just convinced that he hadn’t wanted to share, under some strange spell of his greasy meal’s casting.

But as always, this Caesar was full of surprises.

He was gone for some time to gather the mysterious supplies he needed, searching for a taste he swore would be more suited to her.

It was strange how quickly she had gotten used to having him around… how keenly she felt his absences now.

Such was the strange influence of Caesar, even this man who she struggled to deny was the lover she had once known after all. 

Once he returned he was somehow more bombastic than usual.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, brandishing a well-presented box in her face, as if it had power on par with Crocea Mors itself.

“It’s chocolate.” She answered.

No greater trick than simply reading the very large characters proclaiming it as such on the top of the box. Though now that she had, she found that she was vaguely familiar with the idea of gifting chocolates in boxes such as these to celebrate valentines day, and white day too in this country.

How unexpectedly romantic.

She suddenly hoped that he was correct about them, so that they might be able to partake in such festivities in the future.

“Wrong.” Caesar answered, confusing her deeply. “It’s _artisanal_ chocolate.” 

_Was there any appreciable difference?_ She wondered.

Her love seemed convinced that these was, and she began to reach for the lid, a glossy and deep purple that was appealing to the eye at least, ready to test his belief for herself.

“On second thought I have an even better idea.” He proclaimed, and for a minute she believed he was about to take them all back for himself.

An idea which was only half correct.

Apparently he expected her to take a bite of the thin square of chocolate from where he’d balanced the corner of it between his teeth, no doubt intending for their lips to meet in a kiss in the process.

“Are you doing it this way so that you get to have a bite too?” She asked dryly instead.

He just laughed, quietly, mindful of his intentions not to let the treat slip, but hypnotising none the less. A warm, deep sound that she hadn’t realised had been missing so sorely from her life.

That must have been why she leaned forward to take it, not thinking hard enough to worry that she may bump into the protrusion of his stomach in the process.

If she did, she didn’t feel it.

Though the feel of his hand may have been distracting her, made all the more confusing by the realisation that hers was atop his, suggesting she had put it there herself in an effort to balance. It must have done so without permission of her brain, surely.

Either way, her entire body was warm as she took the sweet from him with a bite.

It was… good.

It was _very_ good.

There was more to it than she would have assumed, the slight bitterness of the cocoa perfectly balanced by the sugar added to it, and a cool shock of mint meeting her tongue as the chocolate melted, every bit as smooth in her mouth as its coating had been.

She could almost understand his newfound fascination with food if it was all like this, though she was certain she would be unable to match him in terms of sheer quantity.

The method of delivery had certainly not detracted from the experience either… she had been correct before when she’d believed that his lips seemed softer now.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked.

It did not escape her notice that he was not referring solely to the chocolate, nor did it escape her that he was the one who had pulled away from their prior position, close enough to share air.

Had she forgotten to do so?

“I did, yes.” She said, shocked at the breathy quality of her own voice. “More so than I had imagined, if I am honest.”

“The joys of modern chocolate. You know, they have fountains that produce liquid chocolate.” He said, matching her joy with his own. “Though I have been told that they are not the same size as fountains used for decoration, which is unfortunate.”

“Is all modern food like this?” She asked, uncertain how she would have missed such a thing until now.

She had eaten after all, even if it did not begin to compare to what her love had been doing.

“It is not all so pleasant, but it is all… different. I’m enjoying getting to discover just how varied it is the further I search.”

“Going on a gourmet tour of the entire world then? That is… very ambitious.” She pointed out.

Though when he put it into words like that, it did not sound so unappealing as it had before, feeling like something more than hedonism for its own sake. Whether that was the result of his persuasion or her noticing a genuine motive of his grounded in a higher curiosity, she couldn’t tell.

“Not so ambitious an undertaking in this time, my love. I have had some of the Chaldea workers teach me how to use a personal computer. The entire world is stored within it, in a manner of speaking.”

“Oh? I admit I am only vaguely familiar with the concept.”

Something that was humiliating, to say the least. Whatever determined the amount of knowledge she possessed of the modern world had supplied her with just enough context to understand that she should be far more familiar with this commonplace object than she was.

Her beloved and herself used to be able to spend hours discussing politics, intrigue, and other topics of interest. How had Caesar described them before… a marriage of true minds? Now she more often found herself feeling like a true fool instead, their world being little more than a memory, and stuck understanding only the most surface level parts of the world they now found themselves in.

Thankfully, he had never minded the chance to explain something. Perhaps enamoured with the sound of his own voice just as deeply as he was with her.

“The is a network of information covering the entire world that can be accessed by them.” He began.

The words ‘internet’ was in her head before he had the chance to use it, so perhaps she understood slightly more about the machines than she had at first believed.

“It is reminiscent of a library, only were you to put all the words in books, it would span entire cities with ease. The rest is invisible to you unless you search for information first though, so you can never really grasp the true scale of it. There are photos and videos too, of anything, anywhere in the world.” He explained with gusto.

It was a difficult concept to imagine, even though as he explained it she inherently knew it to be true.

“Why the interest in different foods when all of… _that_ is so readily available?” She asked.

“Well, when you can see or hear anything on earth from here it no longer feels so special.” He claimed. “They haven’t worked out smell or taste digitally yet, so it just feels… a little more authentic, I suppose.”

Authentic? Cleopatra imagined he had seen more of the world in his own time then most people would manage even in this one. Why would he have some sudden vested interest in such things?

“I do not remember you being so worldly the last time you travelled the world.” She joked. 

But he did not laugh, or even smile.

“That was always our way though, wasn’t it?” He agreed, almost solemnly. “Our conquests were never because I coveted what other lands had, but rather that I wanted to expand than glory of Rome, to give the world what we already had.”

“Which you did.” She pointed out, extremely disquieted with the sudden turn in conversation.

Once more she felt, for the first time in a considerable while, that this man could not be the Caesar she’d known. Just when she was finally coming around to the reality of it, he threw something like this at her.

Caesar never doubted the glory of his conquest, of his beautiful Rome. They had intended to reshape the world together, she remembered.

When had he abandoned that dream? 

“Yes, we did. But now that I experience the world from my new perspective, as a servant rather than a conqueror… I sometimes wonder if anything of value was lost along the way.”

“Do not worry about such things.” She tried to comfort him. “I doubt the barbarians of our time had discovered deep fried food or artisanal chocolates either… meanwhile the echoes of Rome’s glory are still heard today, in every corner of this world.”

Once more he smiled at her; not the sharp, victorious smirk he usually bore, but the soft smile she had only ever seen in their quietest moments, so small she used to fear it could vanish at a moment’s notice.

“Thank you, my love.” He said, bringing the back of his hand to gently rub her cheek. “You are correct, of course. I am sorry for burdening you with such silly musings.”

This part of Caesar was painfully familiar, and she found herself settled from her earlier discomfort. Always trying to carry the weight of the world, to spare her any suffering that he himself may have been facing.

How deep was the torture of lacking control over anything in this world for a man who had controlled everything in life?

Foolish man; blind to his own humanity in the way that all the greatest men were.

Was everyone else on their team incapable of seeing him for who he truly was?

It should not have been any burden of his, he did not choose this current form, and if he could not do anything about it… then perhaps she would need to search for more creative solutions.

In the meantime she insisted he be free to explore these cuisines in any way he should wish, it had no effect on his abilities or his health after all, and every now and again he would stumble across something he insisted she try, certain she would fall in love with it.

He was rarely wrong about such things, she quickly discovered.

She also realised that he had been acquiring modern currencies through gambling, and other underhanded forms of persuasion. Somehow the amount he was amassing was actually exceeding that which he spent on food, and so he would often encourage her to accompany him in spending the rest.

Their master wasn’t exactly pleased by their excursions into the modern world at large, but, well, they didn’t exactly look like any busts of themselves anyone would recognise, did they?

More and more her traitorous mind could not seem to find this such an awful thing.


	4. Failure 4: Science vs Well... itself

Her next attempt failed before she could even try it.

“That definitely wouldn’t work.”

“Why not? I thought that was exactly what the procedure was intended for.” She pointed out.

She had used the personal computer to research it, her love taking great joy in teaching her how to use one.

Apparently she still couldn’t understand technology in this time however. 

“Well, even if you two were… like me and the other workers here, liposuction isn’t actually a long-term weight control. It can only take small bits, and they comes back after a while anyway.”

And here she had thought that science was supposed to have made these people’s lives easier!

The latter point didn’t seem like a problem to Cleopatra honestly, surely you would just repeat it when that happened?

Though the first bit… she could not pretend that Caesar had only ‘small bits’ which needed removing.

“Plus.” The scientist added. “If we tried to go near one of _you_ with a cannula for it, the thing would just crumple like paper.”

“Maybe there is a spirit who wields one as a weapon?” Cleopatra suggested.

The other woman simply smiled at her, clearly trying not to laugh. She found that she was not too offended by the misdemeanour however, keeping in mind that _this_ scientist (she really ought to remember her name) was one of few who always humoured her queries about this world, who did not look down on her for not yet knowing. 

“It is interesting though… it feels like you have been given our view on weight.”

“What do you mean?” Cleopatra asked.

“Well, I’d always been told that through history in countries like yours that being… _larger_ was considered a sign of wealth, of power.”

“Not in my love’s empire.” She said. “They believed such things to be a sign of moral and mental weakness.”

She knew that many that came before her in her own dynasty had been mocked and looked down upon by their roman neighbours for their corpulence; the preference for showing off such things having fallen out of fashion by the time of her reign. Fortunate, considering how many of them lost their lives to their own weight in the end.

(Though death was all the same once it came for you, she knew, not exactly outliving them herself.)

Romans had always seemed stronger than her own people in regards to willpower however, and Caesar had always seemed to exemplify that strength, with his access to all the vice in the world and ability to not indulge in it.

She had always known that his Rome had fallen with him, it was just strange to imagine he may too have fallen from grace alongside it.

“Oh… sorry.” Was all the scientist said.

Somehow, she had almost managed to forget she was not alone.

“What did you mean by _your_ view on weight?” Cleopatra asked now that she had been reminded, curious to know if there were places on earth where such things were aspired to.

“Oh! I mean that in some countries it's considered more… commonplace. I have visited the US before for work and the people there are huge!” She said, before wincing slightly. “That probably sounded rude, I’m sorry. The people there are very friendly, I did not mean to sound like I was insulting them.”

Briefly, she wondered if the woman’s sudden remorse was an indication that she though Cleopatra may take offense at those words… was she calling her fat?

No, of course not, this was obviously signifying that she thought that the words would be taken as a slight against Caesar.

Were they?

Roman emperors had been dragged through the streets and killed for excess in similar nature to her beloved’s, gorging themselves day and night while the common folk starved.

Although even as she thought it, she knew she was being unfair. Caesar’s meals were perhaps… excessive, but they were not the endless feasts of men who did nothing for the people they were supposed to be leading.

Things just didn’t work like that anymore, there truly was more than enough for everyone. Besides, he certainly did more than his fair share for his fellow man, even after his death!

Hadn’t this been why she’d wanted to do this in the first place? So that the image of her beloved would match his true self once more?

“Do not worry.” She told the scientist, who seemed very nervous at her silence. “I am just disappointed that this technology was unable to help us.”

“I understand… I’m sorry I didn’t have better news. I know it might seem like it sometimes, but what we’re doing here isn’t magic.” 

No, it certainly wasn’t.

That was _precisely_ the issue.

One that was easily solved, now that she bothered to see the possibilities.

Though she feared she must have frightened the poor scientist senseless, leaving in such high spirits after their conversation.

What could she say, it truly _was_ like magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time (I'd originally planned it to be only a few sentence long, as a sort of joke attempt) - next couple of chapters should be longer though.


	5. Failure 5: Illusions vs Harsh realities

Cleopatra knew that classifying all of her previous attempts as failures had been an act of pure ignorance, considering just how catastrophically her fifth attempt went.

Of course, ignorance was supposedly bliss, which she found herself suddenly far more willing to believe, given how her latest… epiphany was causing her nothing but torment.

She had changed approaches after catching on to an underhanded barb from Caesar, her love as clever as always in delivering it, though he still vehemently denied this one even after being caught.

That line he had fed her about a ‘marriage of true minds’ had not been his own words; coming from _Shakespeare_ of all people (well, spirits, she supposed). She read the passage he had quoted, a fairly simplistic love poem, befitting the hack of a writer who had smeared the tragedies of their lives in his plays. 

The very next sentence from that one Caesar had used was drivel about how love was not true if it ‘alters when it alteration finds’.

A very clear implication that Caesar believed her devotion was ingenuine because of her struggles to adapt to his changes, though he tried to convince her she was just reading into things that were not truly there.

It did not make her feel any better, having been struggling with roiling guilt ever since she had caught on that some of the humans around them thought she was being cruel in trying to get Caesar to lose weight.

Perhaps she was, perhaps Caesar truly was fine with his weight and how everyone else on their side endlessly looked down on him, but none of that aligned with the man she knew him to be. If it were true, then he had changed on a far deeper level than just his appearance.

She didn’t know if she could love a man who was half a stranger, despite Shakespeare’s insistence that she should stand by him regardless of how different they became from one another.

She didn’t know him at all, it sometimes felt.

Maybe it was sheer desperation that drove her to it.

Not even desperation for a thin lover, as she was finding she was already largely indifferent to weight in an aesthetic sense, perhaps the result of some further cultural osmosis having occurred during their visit to New York?

That was irrelevant.

All she wanted was some familiarity.

But Caesar had made it clear that he believed she was shallow for her attempts to change him, despite agreeing to them at the time. If this was some flaw of her own, then she would change herself.

Or at least, change her point of _view_.

She had gotten the idea after realising just how good glasses looked on her, and how the warped glass magnified everything she saw through them. Though she later realised contact lenses would perhaps be a tad more… subtle.

(Not to mention they wouldn’t risk clashing with any outfits.)

It had been the worst idea she had ever had.

It was not even that Da Vinci’s creation did not work, they were a stroke of pure genius, and Cleopatra was sure no one could have crafted something finer.

But magic did what you asked, no more and no less.

And how often was what you asked for what you truly wanted?

All she had requested was a lens that would make people look thinner, and that is exactly what Da Vinci delivered. 

At first it had been fine, wonderful in fact, more effective than she could have ever imagined.

Caesar was her Caesar once more.

He cut a dramatic figure in red, the material hugging the taut lines of him… or rather of the _image_ of him. Very lithe, with hollowed cheeks that gave him a hungry look, for once even when he wasn’t sat at a dinner table. 

He was still much younger than she had known him, but she found that somehow that too felt familiar, more so in some sense than his original self had been, in the memories she still had of him from life.

At the time she had not thought to find that disquieting.

But quickly the unforeseen consequences had begun to present themselves.

The first was harmless, if just a bit jarring to see, never failing to remind her of the function of her lenses.

Because they may have been able to make people appear thinner, but they could not alter how bodies behaved with the environment around them, inevitably meaning that sometimes Caesar appeared to be much further away from tables, desks and the like than he truly was, a spread of empty space all she saw in the place she knew his stomach would be. 

It was a little humorous actually, always seeming like their teammates were giving the man a much wider berth than they gave each other. She liked to imagine they did so as a sign of respect or fear, even though logically she knew that his body was really taking up most of the space between them.

Of course, she often fell afoul of that herself when she was unable to see a large portion of his body, endlessly crashing into him whenever she walked anywhere near him. She was glad she had possessed the foresight to be honest about the lenses, knowing she would not have been able to convincingly hide them.

Part of her had worried that he would take further offense, given their small argument over his passive aggression, but if he did then he had chosen to keep it to himself.

And really, when did Caesar ever keep anything to himself?

The feel of his body was less alarming than she had envisioned too. They may have felt as hard as steel to humans in this world, but to her he just felt like any other man made of flesh.

Granted, it was perhaps more flesh than a lot of other men, but she was beginning to find that it was not at all an unpleasant sensation to the touch. It felt almost comforting to be surrounded by his warmth, the softness of his stomach and chest contrasted with the harder strength of his arms as he inevitably caught her, stopped her losing her balance after another crash.

Getting used to his body was easier when she was not doing so with all of her senses at the same time perhaps? They had devised a system where she would hang on to his arm while the walked together to avoid any further collisions; she would lean into his side, feeling herself sink slightly into his hip.

When she caught a glance of the illusory gap between their bodies she would feel a strange stab of sadness more often than not, though it was always gone before she could dwell too long on what it meant. 

On the whole though, things between them were the best they had been since her return.

Which was good really, because it made the fact that the lenses made literally everyone else around them look like hellish phantasms far easier to bear.

These sights were familiar to her too, endless crowds of skeletal people. In her time that would have meant a famine, it would have meant death to countless of her people. Now she is not sure what it means that she keeps them on despite the memories that seeing these figures brings back.

It is nice to have any memories at all, she finds.

No, it was an entirely different concern that made her finally take them off.

A far more _practical_ one.

Namely, that they were absolutely ridiculous when using them during a session of refamiliarizing herself with Caesar’s body in a far more intimate sense.

She had finally worked up the courage to do so after realising that the feel of his stomach was not so foreign a thing after all, the cumulative result of many falls. In fact, if anything, entering into it Caesar was the one more reluctant to initiate anything. 

Though she was certain it would not carry any true of harm to them in their current states, he refused any positions that would involve his weight above her. Which meant she was atop him, something he had always been far more reluctant than Marcus to engage in.

Except she wasn’t really atop him, because from her point of view there was a more than noticeable gap between their bodies, as if she was simply floating in air that resisted against her body. It was disorienting to say the least, and she struggled to find any points of stability, let alone actually exploring his body in turn when she couldn’t see it.

It made her feel utterly ridiculous, and almost without thinking she removed the lenses, though she immediately knew the motion hadn’t been missed by her beloved.

Her choice to do so went unspoken, but she was sure she hadn’t imagined the increased eagerness in his movements.

She just resolved to keep herself from being overwhelmed, it had been millennia since the two of them had been together in this way even without taking into account that there was significantly more of Caesar this time around.

Besides, the lenses had stopped working plenty of times during battle due to exhaustion of her own energy, and it wasn’t as if she had suddenly refused to spend time with him, to enjoy his company. It wasn’t as if the delicate feelings he stoked in her had suddenly vanished either.

Cleopatra was not afraid of beloved’s body.

She just felt that it did not represent himself.

So why was she struggling to look at him? Focusing her eyes on anything in the room but Caesar, or even closing her eyes, groping blindly once more.

Thankfully, her love was every bit as skilled as she remembered, and she was infinitely relived that not all of his anatomy had been altered in this new form.

It was blissful, and she began feeling able to concentrate on the feelings of specific points where their bodies met, slowly building up to the whole. Because if all the parts felt the same as they once had, and the whole was the sum of its parts, then Caesar was the same as he had ever been, she reasoned.

For once, it felt like a success. Like she had discovered a part of him untouched by time. 

Or rather, it did so until they finished.

They did not get chance to bask in the glow of something she knew they had both longed for however, something they had desired for years untold.

Because, lay flat against his body, arms folded over his chest and faces close enough to kiss, she discovered another effect of the lenses.

It was a very slimming angle, being directly above someone, and his face actually resembled how it did with the lenses in use, with perhaps a little less visible definition on his cheekbones.

Oh, and the other, subtle difference she had never realised until now.

The lenses must have slightly distorted her view of his facial features, in trying to ensure they sensibly fit on his slimmed down face. Pushing them in just the slightest bit, unnoticeable without something for comparison.

Now she was finally looking at him, really looking at him, with her own eyes though, and it was like seeing him for the first time.

How could she have never noticed?

Maybe she had not taken a close enough look before, distracted by his weight as she had been.

Or perhaps it was the look on Caesar’s face as she stared at him now, gentler, and more vulnerable than she knew she would have ever seen him in life, as if he had been given innocence along with the youth she had never gotten to see him bear.

Or, the cruellest possibility of all… perhaps she had just forgotten her son’s face until it was staring back at her through his father’s.

She had seen the resemblance between Caesarion and Caesar, obviously, the boy had his look in a way that none of Antonius’ children ever did. But how could she have grasped the true extent of such a thing?

She had never seen Caesar young in life, she remembered.

She would never see Caesarion as anything but young, she knew.

She would never get the chance.

Except now, she would see him every time she saw Caesar, now that she knew she was looking for him. 

The lenses would doubtless make such a thing worse, any possibility of Caesar looking slimmer would, certain she could not see him older, unageing as they were.

Caesarion was unageing too, she supposed.

There was some great cruelty there, she knew, that they both had forever while because of her actions her son would only ever have the seventeen years he had lived.

Though she knew she could not truly be capable of it, Cleopatra felt her stomach turning, threatening sickness.

When she ran out of the bed she did not stop to explain.

She wasn’t sure she had the words.


	6. Surrender

Apparently he was not keen to let her escape this time, softly banging on the door of the room she used for sleeping, when she was supposed to preserve her spirit energy.

She had been thankful not to have been spotted naked making her way over, but apparently he had no such concerns.

Or perhaps he had gotten dressed and she had simply lost track of time, she mused, deciding the latter was more likely. Her beloved was certainly not shy about his appearance, but he was not prone to such… exhibitionism.

“Cleopatra I know that you are there.” She heard him say.

Part of her considered silence, but it was futile, as experienced at sieging as her beloved was, he would wait her out, she knew.

“Why do you wish to be around me when I seem only capable of cruelty towards you?” She asked through the door instead.

“Cleo, believe when I promise that you could never be cruel to me… do not listen to the humans from this time, they do not understand how we lived.”

“But you think it too! You directed that mocking poem at me.”

“I admit that… appropriating a love poem wasn’t exactly original of me, but I spoke those words with complete sincerity.” He sounded pained, whether to admit unoriginality in word craft, or simply bearing his soul in a place where they may be overheard she wasn’t sure.

But she let him in regardless, not wanting any of the others to know of this.

“Why did you say them then? I would not exactly say that they rang true.” She challenged, once she was sure they would not be overheard.

Perhaps she could have articulated that better.

Caesar was not a man to wear his emotions of his sleeves, he would not have survived long his position if he was, but Cleopatra had learnt not to take that to mean that he was a cold man. Those words hurt him, she could tell.

This was a sickness within her spirit, it must have been, why else would her own past torture her while she did nothing but torture the man who tried to love her?

“You find my current appearance distasteful, and yet you keep trying regardless. I would say that is a sign of conviction in your love.” He said.

His tone conveyed his utter belief in the sentiment, unlike the times she knew when he was manipulating someone into coming around to his point of view. This was not one of those instances, him instead seeming to truly believe and accept that she found him repulsive.

He followed her over to the bed, one point of interest in an otherwise largely plain room.

He did not join her in sitting, instead kneeling on the floor, looking up so he could glimpse her face, even as she dropped it to try and prevent him.

It looked almost like prayer, like worship.

There was much she wanted to ponder on about the nature of love, and indeed the nature of them in this world. But she felt desperately that she must correct their misunderstanding first.

“I do not find your appearance distasteful.” Was all she said, unsure how to put what she _did_ feel into words.

Granted, while she had grown largely indifferent to some measure of corpulence since becoming acclimatised to this time, she would not say it held some isolated appeal to her in the way that the sight of a toned abdomen could.

But then, once something was attached to Caesar, even completely mundane parts could pique her interest.

The curve of his smirk and the strong but gentle grip of his hands were repeat offenders. At some point, the soft contours of his body had simply fallen under the same category.

He seemed unconvinced of this however.

“I was not trying to sling accusations, I was merely stating what we both know to be true. I would not expect you to blindly accept such a change in me… far less so resent you for it.”

“I am not blind, and would not drop my standards, even for you. But I am certain that you are incapable of ugliness.”

She knew her words to be true as she spoke them; Caesar had been over twice her age when they had met in life, and she had felt attraction to him like she had felt for no other man, regardless of how they vied for affections.

Why would it be so different now, just because he was twice her weight instead?

There was little in this world that she imagined could change it.

“It would be obscene of me to accuse you of deceit, but you must admit that your actions do not seem to align with your words. You took a single, proper look at me without your lenses, and you fled the room before you could even grab your clothes.”

“Perhaps I just wanted to give you a show.” She said, attempting for levity.

It fell flat, and she knew she would have to fill the silence. 

“I’m sorry Caesar, I know how this must seem. But it was not like that, I was just caught up in the past, and it… overwhelmed me in the moment.”

“You forgot that I am not as I once was?”

“No… I saw that you looked like him.”

“I’m sorry?” He asked, at a loss.

“You look like your son.” She simply said. “Hauntingly so.” 

She didn’t want to soften the sentiment.

Let him hear those words. The words he refused to acknowledge in life.

For once he had no rebuttal.

“It has been so long since I saw his face… I suppose I simply had not realised until then. I had never seen you his age, and I will never see him yours, so it was… disorientating, and I fled.”

Neither of them had anything to say in the face of her confession. Aware that they were only here because of their legacy, their tragedy.

It could not have gone any other way for them, and it was ridiculous of her to fixate over such minor things in a time where they could live in peace for once.

Well, apart from the forces that wanted all of humanity dead, but when had there ever been a time of true peace?

“Let us stop these silly attempts on your weight. You had told me before you did not care… and I do not either.” She said, surprised at how beaten down she sounded.

Sometimes surrender was the only way forwards, once you had acknowledged that there was truly nothing to be gained even in the possibility of victory.

“But you do! I know that it bothers you.” Caesar argued.

Why did he refuse to listen to her?

“It does not bother me how you look!” She paused, wondering what did bother her. “It bothers me how you are seen.”

“What do you mean?”

“All of the others look down on you! They treat you like some sort of fool, an incompetent.”

Her love watched her as if she had admitted to some great folly of her own.

“That’s what all this is about? Let them! It is not my concern what they think.”

“But why? You are the only saber out there who isn’t a complete idiot! Why do you let them treat you otherwise?”

“I feel I should object to your ‘only saber’ comment, for Nero’s sake if no one else’s.” He joked warmly, refusing to rise to anger over the disrespect they showed him. “Though it is reassuring that you do not find me ‘completely’ stupid.” 

“Why do you treat this like it’s funny? You used to care! You were never like this before.”

“No I suppose I wasn’t like this.” He said, thoughtfully.

“I apologise. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No, you’re not wrong. In life I was hard as stone, feared by all of my foes, and respected by all my people… but we both know that didn’t save me.”

They both knew it had doomed him.

“No. It didn’t.” She agreed miserably.

When had it ever saved anyone? She had seen countless great men fall in her time, subject to all of the same cruelties of fate that the people below them were.

“Now I truly believe that there is no harm in being underestimated, it may be more prudent in fact.”

“You were betrayed by cowards! Never blame your own successes for their ignorance, and never _hide_ yourself because of them.”

“I’m not blaming myself, or hiding, I’m just…tired.”

That she could relate to.

“Chaldea know my history… everybody does.” He said, laughing dryly. “If they want my assistance, they can have it. But I’m tired of scheming and fighting for power.”

“But Caesar! That is who you are. It is who you have always been.”

If her love was not a fighter, then what in this world was he?

“You know, I don’t think it is. I was not born to be a ruler in the same way you were born to be a pharaoh, Cleopatra.” 

“No one can know the whims of fate, Caesar.” She said. “The great always become who they are meant to be.”

“Perhaps… but in my early life my people had declared that my fate was to become a priest. A man who by sacred vow could never look upon an army, or touch a mount, or even spend a night outside of Rome’s walls. At sixteen I could never have imagined the life I would live instead.” He challenged.

She had never heard stories of Caesar’s youth, and part of her had always imagined on some level that he had practically been born a general. This had probably been intentional on his part, to remove any vulnerability from his image.

But if he had consciously chosen to change, as he was implying, then she felt she might finally get somewhere in understanding why.

If he would only let her.

“I can see how those specific vows may have held back your military hopes… What changed?”

“Everything.” He simply said. “My father died… I was suddenly head of my family, and my uncle waged a war that cost him the city.”

War. Of course.

The one thing that changed the world for everyone.

“It was his victors who stole that life from me… my inheritance, and my priesthood.” He explained. “Sulla was no fool though; he knew not to leave me alive, until he was politically pressured to do so.”

“A mistake I’m sure he lived to regret… or perhaps not.” She smiled.

“That man had only gained the power to steal my life from his war, and in doing so he gave me the freedom to do the exact same. I joined the army before he had the chance to change his mind… and I imagine you know the rest.” He finished, with a strange sort of self-deprecating humour in his voice. 

“Yes, I do. But your life was a story of success… why do you treat it as if you failed? You reshaped the world.”

“Success is meaningless if you cannot leave a legacy. My version of Rome crumpled even as my body cooled. I fought and I won for nothing, and what did it get me except blades, upon blades, upon blades. So many that it has somehow become the very core of my being in this life.”

Cleopatra had never imagined he still felt such pain over his death, and she desperately wished to comfort him.

However, his words always held a power over those who heard them, and she found she could not interrupt them. 

“My own dear friend among them… and I cannot even blame him. Nor Cassius, for how can I condemn a man cut from the exact cloth I was? I would have done the same.”

Neither of them were any strangers to killing, no less so now that she was a so-called assassin, so they were ill-equipped to judge other killers. 

“But that was not the worst part… At the time I didn’t focus on the reality of the betrayal, I couldn’t bear to. All I could think about as I lay dying was you… of how I had mistreated you.”

“You never mistreated me!” She argued, stricken at the suggestion.

Not even in ways that other men of the time would have considered acceptable, if she had not been a pharaoh.

“Prioritising some abstract idea of respectability over your love was the greatest mistake I had ever made. I tried to recall some time of happiness in my life when it was fading, something that would have made my life worthwhile.”

“When-” She began to ask, before realising he had not confirmed if he had found such a time.

“Always with you.” He answered immediately. “When your family had us under siege, in Alexandria. Spending every single day with you, without the prying eyes of Rome dividing us. Sometimes I wish it had lasted longer, though I know my men would not thank me for it, so that I could have been there for Caesarion’s birth.”

This was completely unaligned with everything her Caesar had valued… and yet this man spoke so clearly of a transition, rather than a replacement of beliefs. Cleopatra wanted to desperately believe it.

But Caesar would always choose Rome, his devotion to his empire had made him a true emperor, even with the title remaining unspoken.

“You say all this, but you would have had to give up your hopes for Rome. You could never do such a thing.”

“I could.” He insisted. “Back then I believed that was what I wanted… But I do not want the glory of ruling, all I wish in this life is the privilege of calling you my wife, and Caesarion my son. That is the only thing I have wanted since my return.”

Such words were beyond anything she would have ever wished to hear, beyond what she knew to even be possible.

How could he say them with such conviction?

And why only now?

“Why have you never spoken about this?” She pressed.

“Misguided pride, perhaps. In truth I am doing all of _this._ ” He said, gesturing to their surroundings. “Because I thought that the grail may be able to grant me that desire.”

What?

Such an idea was… incompatible with reality.

Living happily with Caesarion and Caesar had never seemed possible, even while they were both alive to do so. She would not have thought to wish such a thing on the grail, when Caesar would have had to abandon his ambitions to do so.

But now he was saying he would throw it all out, for her. 

The thought that he would choose her over all of Rome was an intoxicating one… but she knew all too well the reality of it.

“Do not torture yourself over your choice my beloved, even if you had escaped to Egypt with Caesarion and myself… Well, it does not promise you would not be pursued. We did not die in Rome after all.”

“No, my son was cut down by the man I had dared to take on as my heir… A further cruelty towards you on my part.”

“You could not have known. Please do not regret your choices, or feel ashamed.”

“No? How fragile the world around me was, shattering the instant I was gone. But declaring Octavian my heir is my greatest shame. Do you understand? These humans are wrong, because nothing you ever do by my side could be cruel in light of all I have inflicted on you.”

“Is that why you’ve gone along with… all of this?” She asked, in sudden epiphany.

“I would do anything to be everything you want.” Was all he said in response.

A strange pain gripped her chest, as if it had a heart that sustained her stored within. Had he truly done so only for her?

The attempts had only drawn more mockery and pity from the people around them, and while he claimed not to care, she knew such things would be hard to not take any consideration of.

It was her fault she had victim of it, he had come into this world physically transformed and he had still adapted better than she was.

She needed him to know he did not need to change, that she had always been his.

“And I want nothing but you… I just find myself struggling to accept that you are truly yourself. Never did I dare imagine Caesar would choose me over Rome. Nothing makes sense here.” She admitted, accidentally saying more than she had intended.

What? Was she hoping that Caesar would absolve her of her guilt?

“You are unsettled in this world.” He mused. “But that is to be expected. I must be wholly honest with you. There was a part of me that was… apprehensive, once I discovered you had become a spirit, like me.”

Selfishly, she was relieved that she was not the only one who had experienced problems falling back into the old rhythm of their relationship.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I knew you had loved since me. Antonius gave you three children, and openly chose you, in a way that I never did. I was afraid your affections would have… shifted, though I would not have blamed you. But after all this time, they said that you had asked for me… and I knew that we felt the same way, even now.”

“You never doubted our love?”

“Not once.”

“I do not understand what strange sickness has taken hold of me, that I cannot move on… the life that you describe sounds… blissful. But I just cannot believe that it is ours to have.”

“Perhaps that sickness is life… and loss. I realised what I truly wanted from life only as I lost my own, but I still had that drive to claim it once I was back.”

“Are you suggesting I lack it?” She asked, offendedly.

“No! My love, you have always had it… But I know that you chose death because they were already taking everything that gave your life meaning from you. I believe it is only natural that you would not feel suddenly ready to live once more just because you are here. You want what you lost returned to you.”

“But it won’t, will it?”

“I do not know.” He admitted. “This world is unpredictable, and I’m sure I am also not as you expected… I will not pretend that I have not changed, but only promise you that my heart has not shifted, only grown.

All of him had grown, she thought dryly. But it would not be fair to tease him at such a time.

“If it is what you want, then I will stay by your side as you decide how to navigate this world.” He finished.

Such a promise would have been a difficult thing to refuse.

“Yes… I believe that such a thing would be agreeable. And I do not mind the changes in you. Before, I was confused by your unfamiliarity, but I believe I see you now… truly.”

As if to prove so, she leaned down to him, and brough him in for a kiss, cupping his face between her hands. Was that her coming and conquering to accompany her sight?

It certainly seemed to have done so, catching him off guard and leaving him more flushed than she knew he would ever admit to, the womaniser.

“T-Thank you.” He said. “I must be honest, I… prefer this version of myself, and I am glad you do not take objection to it. I feel I have gained some insight of value, and although it is unlike our peers, my new form makes me feel that I can live comfortably in this world, without being torn down for it. It makes me believe that we can live openly together for the same reasons.”

Once more she kissed him, tugging and his collar to make him rise to her level. If they were to be living openly, then spending the night together… without interruptions, seemed like a good start.

Waking up the next morning, she realised watching the gentle glimmers of sunlight bounce off of what she could see of her lover’s form was an even better one.

-

“I will return these to Da Vinci, see if she has any use for them.” She explained, venturing back to where she had abandoned the lenses.

“And you are certain that you wish to relinquish them permanently? I thought we had firmly established that I would take no offense.”

“Mhm. Indeed we did.” She ran her hand from his brow, to cup his cheek “But I suppose I have finally come around to the idea that we should attempt to live… comfortably.”

Teasingly, she gave the flesh there a quick pinch.

He squirmed away from her touch only slightly, putting up no true fight against her onslaught as she dove back in, peppering his round face in feather-light kisses.

How strange, joking with her Caesar in such a manner, when before he could not have dared display such weakness, lest it be used against him.

But now that was no longer a fear, they could do nearly anything here without the eyes of the world to judge them, every avenue of their future open… before they even knew for certain if the grail could truly open their pasts to them in the same way.

Until then she was more than content to exist like this alongside this Caesar.

He had definitely changed.

It did not matter that he was young, he was older somehow.

And he had grown.

Grown much wiser and more tempered.

No, he was not the Caesar she had known.

But for the first time, perhaps he could be her Caesar, fully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming along for the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just a surprised as you are that this fic exists, on the off chance you're reading it - enjoy!


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